Love Letters To The Moon
by FeanorusRex
Summary: Horkin tests out the saying, "Write love letters to the moon and sometimes she writes back." In this case the moon is Lunitari, and the letter is a disastrous drunken composition with rhyming poetry and a lack of punctuation.


**AN: Enjoy, please review.**

Horkin was drunk.

Only after realizing how very intoxicated he was, is it possible to grasp why Horkin was doing what he was.

He had gotten word from an old friend, Mirana Solaris, that she had taken and passed the wizarding test of initiation at the Tower of High Sorcery. She now wore black robes, no surprise there. Mirana had always lacked a large sense of morality.

While Horkin was glad that she had come through alive and sane, this news served to remind him of his brown robes, and his design- and that of the Conclave- not to take the Test. He had a good life working for the Mad Baron. He had food, a place to live, income, and friends, and usually it did not bother him that he would never be anything more than average, that even if the Conclave should invite him to take the Test, he would have refused. Better to live an insignificant life, than to die or be mutilated for magic, he reasoned. He was at peace with his decision most of the time. But today, reminded that the last of his wizard friends had surpassed him in skill and in bravery…well he'd had a drink. And another. He'd drunk until he forgot why he was drinking, but he saw no reason to stop as he now felt quite good.

So good, in fact, that he began to write a love letter to Lunitari, the goddess of neutral magic and the red moon, an endeavor he would have never undertaken sober, considering the logistical problem of actually sending a letter to a goddess, and the fact that he was not in love with Lunitari. However, Horkin was not a happy drunk, or a sad drunk, but a poetic one, and he felt the need to send a love letter to someone. This also explained why his letter contained a mixture of poetry and prose. They were both quite poorly written; Horkin had never been burdened with an over abundance of schooling, and now highly intoxicated, his style and grammar were abysmal.

Signing the letter: "Love to you, my dearest ruby-hued goddess,

Horkin"

He folded it into what could be called thirds, placed it on the desk before him, and muttered a magic spell. It was not a spell of sending objects, but it was the only one he could remember, and it seemed to work. The letter disappeared in a flash of light that left scorch marks on the wood of his desk and, job done, passed out. In the morning Horkin remembered nothing of the previous night, and so was surprised when he received a letter elaborately addressed to him, a few days later.

As he walked to his desk preparing to read it, his eyes fell on the scorch marks left by his letter's disappearance. Suddenly, the memory of that inebriated night came flooding back to him, and he sat down hard, overwhelmed by a sense of dread. Filled with forbidding, he slit the envelope and unfolded the letter, revealing words written in red ink by a strong hand.

 _"Dear Master Horkin,_

 _In the course of my immortal life, I have received may prayers and offerings, but none so unique, certainly none so decidedly amorous as yours. Interesting as it was, I find it necessary to correct a few details…"_

Horkin's letter had been long and Lunitari's reply was longer still, picking apart every aspect of his writing. Horkin read and read, swept along on the tide of genteel sarcasm and barbed witticisms.

On his lack of punctuation: _"While it worked for e e cummings, it does not work for you, in the paragraphs you choose to forsake it…"_ Horkin did not know any bard named e e cummings, but he remembered leaving out the punctuation to make it seem more informal.

 _"You seem unsure whether this letter is to Lunitari the woman or Lunitari the moon. It would have been better if you had decided. I am not sure which horrifies me more, the thought of a moon with 'luscious breasts,' or that of a woman with 'craggy craters'…"_

 _"Poetry can rhyme, but it is not usual to rhyme each word in the poem with every other one…"_ Perhaps he should kill himself quickly now, instead of waiting for the goddess to do it in a more painful way.

After correcting his spelling in the last sentence, _"You must mean, 'thought,' not, 'thot,' unless you mean to imply something about my character,"_ Lunitari concluded: _"As I previously stated this was the most intriguing, if lacking in syntax, grammar, stylistic techniques, and clear pronoun antecedents, letter that I have received. Should I find the time, I shall call on you some day._

 _The Veiled Maiden, Maid of Illusion, Night Candle,_

 _Lunitari"_

With shaking hands, Horkin set down the letter, which proceeded to burst into flame and disappear, further scorching his desk. In its place appeared a chain, crafted of fine silver with a pendant, set with a glittering red stone resembling the blood moon. The workmanship was finer than any metalsmith could metal was slightly warm to the touch, and as Horkin slipped it over his head he felt a tingle of latent power, sharper than he had experienced in any other magical artifact.

Had Horkin written to some other god, perhaps he would have been killed. Instead he had received a token of the goddess' favor, and the possibility of a social visit from an immortal being.

Grateful for the former and honored and slightly terrified by the latter, Horkin resolved to pour out his remaining supply of wine, as a precaution and as a libation to his 'ruby hued goddess.'


End file.
